I want to see tommyrot milk a penguin. Mammals have dominated that market for way too long.
Well, some cultures talk about something known as "man-milk."
Penguin milk is metaphysical.
Or rather, the non-existence of penguin milk is a... a... metaphor or symbolic or something of something.
-t,
I am nearly ready to say that I am not altogether fond of Brust's work.
Feathers! I say that am close upon that opinion. It grows nigh.
I hereby halve the distance to it. And halve it yet again.
Yet, I retreat. An entire novel of such constructions is sometimes too long, but the net effect is fun.
::regards Gus with suspicion::
::regards ita with a cool-as-a-cucumber crooked eyebrow::
::recoils slightly from the crooked cucumber::
BRUST IS THE BOMB!!!
::regains composure::
::Looks genuinely amused::
::Checks to make sure everybody closed their italics tags::
:: snorts in derision at the notion that any Gus cucumber is in any way crooked ::
:: begins to recite... ::
Chapter the Seventeenth, How Piro and His Friends, Upon at Last Reaching Dzur Mountain, Met Someone Whom We Hope the Reader Will Consider an Old Friend...
::scans the oeuvre of Brust, not all (or even most) of which parodies Dumas::
::is content::
::regards the quickedit::
::is content::
Chapter the Seventeenth, How Piro and His Friends, Upon at Last Reaching Dzur Mountain, Met Someone Whom We Hope the Reader Will Consider an Old Friend...
Feathers! I nearly think that we do encounter someone that, dear reader, if you will pause just a moment to reflect, we have not only had the pleasure to encounter previously, but also reason to regard them with no small affection and warmth, bordering on fraternity.
Sic 'im, Loiosh!
[Sure, boss. But do you think that jhereg venom works on weremonkeys?]